The Story Of How Dean Winchester Killed Amy Pond
by ninja-curry-girl
Summary: Dean already killed one Amy Pond. But what about the other?


_**ANOTHER AMY POND?**_

_WARNING: Rated T for violence, course language and general insanity. You have been warned. (Because it clearly says 'WARNING' at the top … geddit? No? Okay.)_

There was once a young man named Dean Winchester. Dean was a hunter, but he wasn't an ordinary sort of hunter. He was a monster hunter. He killed them and ate their livers. Okay, maybe not their livers, but he killed them.

Dean loved many things. He loved tacos. He loved his car. He loved women. He loved his brother and dad and Uncle Bobby. He loved his best friend Castiel, who was an angel who, much to Dean's disappointment, had no hormones and didn't know a thing about porn (but that's another story). But most of all, he loved slayin' sons of bitches. No, not _his_ bitches. Just bitches in general.

One of these sons of bitches happened to be a creature that called herself Amy Pond. Now, Amy Pond wasn't technically a son, nor was her mother a bitch. (Well, actually, her mother was a _Kitsune_, which also happens to be the Japanese word for 'fox'. And foxes are related to dogs. And, well, Amy Pond's mother was female.) What Amy Pond was, however, was a freak. A freak of nature. She was _supposed_ to eat brains to survive, which is freakish enough. But she didn't want to. That sort of thing would probably be normal to a normal person, but Amy Pond wasn't normal. She wanted to be, but she wasn't. She was, as our friend Dean would put it, a son of a bitch.

Now Dean killed this son of a bitch called Amy Pond. He shouldn't have, (and that's another story as well) but he did. And he thought he was done with any sons of bitches called Amy Pond for good.

Dear little Dean Winchester was so very _wrong_.

Far, far away, in a magical land named England, there lived a young lady. This young lady's name was Amy Pond and she was Scottish. This Amy Pond was very different to the earlier Amy Pond. She was ginger, for starters. And she was married to the most beautiful man she'd ever met, with one hell of a daughter. But she, too, was a freak of nature.

You see, when Amy Pond was a very young girl of only seven years of age, there was a crack in her wall. It was no ordinary crack. It was a crack in space and time, leading to the second big bang and causing the universe to start up all over again (once again, it's another story). Now, from this crack in her wall, all the knowledge that the universe contained within it seeped into her brain. Because of this, she was special.

Amy Pond travelled across time and space with a strange little man called the Doctor. Or, at least, that's what everyone called him. He didn't know why. He called himself the Doctor too, and he still didn't know why. The Doctor wasn't actually a man at all. He was an alien, from outer space. He came from a planet named Gallifrey, where there once lived a race of creatures called Time Lords (they're all wiped out now, and yes, that is another story). The Doctor had a time machine called the TARDIS. It is an acronym that stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. Soon, Amy's husband, the most beautiful man she'd ever met with a legacy to rival that of Chuck Norris himself, joined them on their travels, and all was fine and dandy (until Amy conceived a child while travelling along the space-time continuum which created a lot of complications, but that's another fucking story).

Amy was special. Which made her a freak. And because she was a freak, she was also a son of a bitch.

Now, back to ickle Dean Winchester. Dean was on Facebook. Yes, dear old Dean, who once thought that Myspace was a porn site, was now using Facebook as well as anyone else. In fact, he had 748 friends (he knew a lot of people) and 26 notifications waiting for him to check them out. Dean was just scrolling through his wall, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling, until he found something so preposterous, so completely absurd, that he stopped scrolling.

_Lucifer is now friends with Amy Pond._

Dean stared the computer down. He stared it down so hard that Batman would've been proud.

Why the hell did he add Lucifer as a friend on Facebook?

And, perhaps more importantly, _WHO IS THIS AMY POND?_

Dean clicked on her profile. Amy Pond was in England now? He thought he had killed her. He'd stabbed her through the heart. Why was she still alive?

And so Dean packed his bags, told his little brother Sam and his Uncle Bobby and he was off to find hot British models to bang, and set off towards England. Dean only knew two things about England: they had a queen, and they had hot models. That was all that was important to him.

He only wished the Queen was younger.

Meanwhile, Amy Pond was living a quiet, peaceful life with her husband who was like Chuck Norris. She was the face of a new perfume line: 'Petrichor: For The Girl Who's Tired Of Waiting'. On the inside, however, she was still eager for action and adventure. Amy Pond should've been careful what she wished for.

There was a knock on her door.

"Rory!" she yelled. Rory was her husband who was like Chuck Norris.

"Right, I've got it!" Rory called back, and Amy heard him jogging towards the door. He came back two minutes later with a short, well-built man.

"Amy," he said, "This is, ah, what did you say your name was, again?"

"Matt Smith," the man said. He had a gruff voice, and he spoke with an American accent.

"Ah, yes. Matt, here, works for the FBI. He said he needed to talk to you."

"In private, please," Matt Smith said.

"Okay?" Amy was a little confused by the whole situation. The last run-in she'd had in the past year with the FBI was forty years ago. (It's a long story. A very, VERY long story. Took up an entire season too.)

"Um, if you don't mind me asking," Rory butt in, "Have you two, er, met before?"

"Nope," Amy shook her head.

Matt Smith swivelled around and gave Rory a charming smile. "Well," he said, "Let's just say I've come across her name before, eh?"

"Um," Rory backed away slowly. An odd gesture for a man who had died at least five times already. "Okay, uh, I'll …" He noticed Matt Smith glaring at him. "I'll, uh, leave, you know … um …" Rory grabbed a jacket near the front door. "You know what? I'll just take a walk. Yes. Um, bye!" He ran out the door.

Amy turned her attention back to Matt Smith. He was a good-looking guy, no doubt. Alright, he was a lot more than just good-looking. But he was too … American. He had short, dirty blonde hair, and light brown eyes. He wore a thick jacket over his plaid shirt and jeans. He looked like he was in his early thirties and ate too many tacos.

"Do you want to sit down?" Amy asked.

"Yeah, thanks," Matt Smith plonked himself down on her sofa. "Do you have a beer?"

"No." Amy narrowed her eyes.

"Ah well," Matt Smith said, "Soda?"

Amy went to the fridge and brought back a can of cola. "Here," she said, "Have a _soft drink_."

"Is that what you call it in England?" Matt Smith smirked. "Huh. Never knew drinks could be soft, huh?" He noticed Amy staring blankly at him, and cleared his throat. "Right, ah, I just wanted to asked you a couple of questions."

"Ask away," Amy shrugged.

"Have you, by any chance, done anything, um, out of the ordinary? Something that, maybe, other people wouldn't do?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Like maybe, ah, kill people?"

"Why?"

"So you have?"

"What?"

"You didn't deny it, so I'm assuming –"

"Why are you asking me this?" Amy rubbed her temples.

"I told you, I work for the FBI," he took a gulp of cola, "They sent me to ask you some questions."

"But why now?"

"So you've been involved with the FBI before?"

Amy shifted in her seat. "You should know. You work for them."

"You don't seem to be denying anything I ask you."

"But why are you coming here now?"

Matt Smith leaned towards her. "Alright, I'm gonna ask you straight out. What are your dealings with Lucifer?"

Amy was dealing with a Christ-obsessed moron. "What?"  
>"My, ah, sources read that you added him as a friend on Facebook recently."<p>

Amy rolled her eyes. "Facebook? The FBI gets their information from Facebook?"

"So why did you do it?"

"Heck, I add everyone as a friend on Facebook," Amy waved her hand around, as if to show that for every item in this room, she had a friend on Facebook. (And she probably did, what with a face like that.)

"So," Matt Smith tilted his head, "You don't actually know a Lucifer?"

"Nope."

Matt Smith stayed silent for a while. "Why would you even add someone you don't know?"

"So you came here all the way from the FBI to discuss Facebook ethics with me?"

Matt Smith straightened himself up. "Well, it's a lot more than that." He gave Amy a sleazy grin. "And if we go on till nightfall, it could be a lot more than that, eh?"

"I'm married."

"Baby, I don't discriminate –"

Amy slapped him with a pillow. "Rory!" she yelled, "River! Doctor! Someone help me?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Matt Smith raised his palms, "Calm your tits, lady. Who is this Doctor?"

"Um," Amy blinked, "He's a guy."

"Does he call himself sexy?"

"What?"

"Well, does he?"

"I … maybe, I don't –"

"A-ha!" Matt Smith jumped up, "So you _are_ working for him!"

"Working for who?"

"Him!" Matt Smith started to walk slowly towards Amy. "Doctor Sexy M.D.!"

"WHAT?"  
>"I won't let you do this, Amy Pond."<p>

"Do what?" Amy asked. She was frightened now. "Let me do what?"

She felt a sharp and stabbing pain in her heart. She looked down and saw a blade poking through her middle. She looked up in horror.

The last thing she saw before the lights faded was Matt Smith looking down at her in satisfaction.

For Matt Smith was really Dean Winchester. (In case you hadn't noticed already.) And Dean's one ambition in life was to kill every son of a bitch that was out there on this cold, cold world. And for every son of a bitch that he killed, he gave himself a manly pat on the back. And this was what he did just now, after laying Amy Pond's lifeless body on her sofa.

And that is the story of how Dean Winchester killed Amy Pond. Again.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Olé! This was a completely useless story. I believe the official term is 'one-shot'. Eh, I'll never get used to using all this fanfiction lingo.

So I got the idea when I was watching Supernatural (kudos to whoever guesses which episode it is). I remember sitting in front of the television, watching Sam explain to Amy about how he found her.

"Cute name," he says, "Amy Pond."

I literally jumped off my seat.

I spent the rest of the night going "AMY POND! HER NAME WAS AMY POND! AMY _FREAKING_ POND!" and texting everyone I knew who may or may not care. I was on a sugar high too, so that didn't help. And that was how this story came to be.

I can't believe I just killed off Amy Pond. I'm worse than Moffat.

Anyway, I would like to thank … um, no one, really. Except Eric Kripke for being so freaking epic. Yes. That is all.

Oh yeah, and neither Supernatural nor Doctor Who belong to me. I own no shit.

Ninja out. Peace :D


End file.
